Warnings: Implied past harm to a child, hard-of-hearing character.
REVISED 1-28-18 for continuity reasons
Chapter One – Pieces of Myself
Oh child of the mystics, doll of the ancients, are you here for glory or freedom?
Fingers traced the words on a silver bracelet as the computer finished booting up. Its owner made a face, but that was all, letting it dangle uselessly on their wrist once more.
"Hello and welcome! Judging on that GPS thingamabob at my right, you're close by aren't you? You're so close to Aevium you can taste it! Aevium here has a real challenge waiting, with eightee-"
Ayame groaned and pressed mute on the computer, letting the captioned text go by on the screen. She made another note in her identification documents, lest she ended up getting bogged up in hours of customs for not being precise. Aevium, a mysteriously fragmented region with a difficulty spike worthy of that demolished Reborn City to the south. For new trainers, it was usually a death sentence, or at the very least a recipe for going broke. Ayame looked at her freshly worn clothes and the nicks on her music player and sighed out loud. She was halfway there already.
Next, to her, someone glared and made a disapproving noise. Ayame raised a pink eyebrow and they turned away, leaving her staring at clean, creamy white walls and pokeball shaped computer monitors. She smiled a bit at that and went back to her screen, scribbling notes of badge requirements. All regions that had an official league (or the trial system in the case of Alola and some other region west of Sinnoh and that one sunken frontier place) had a material in trainer IDs that made sound-based waves come from pokeballs so that the captured pokemon would listen depending on their rank and license type. Or so some idiot with a peak pushed gyarados didn't try using it at the first trainer battle and get eaten for their efforts. Or something. Her teacher had considered it rewriting pack rules or something similar. The Kimono Girls were a little old-fashioned, according to her mother.
"Hey, are you listening?" The words flew up on the screen in all capital letters, followed by the time delay of the scout's irritated face.
Ayame winced and turned the volume back on. "Yeah, I am. Sorry, Miss Amanda."
On the other side of the screen, the young woman let out a grunt of approval, brushing her black jacket free of non-existent crumbs. "You'd better be. You're going to the big leagues. Tohjo's got nothing on this place anymore. At least in terms of competitive play. I still don't know what they feed you poor kids."
Ayame made a face and decided to ignore the potential disagreement. "You really don't have to do this, ma'am. Just because my mother asked you to-"
The woman waved a hand at the screen, black waves dancing about her fingers. "Come on beanie, none of that. We're getting your mum's advertising. Besides, we make these calls to everybody. You just got me 'cause I asked. Now, come on, let's finish this before either of us go grey, mmkay?"
Ayame grunted agreement, toying with her pink hair. She rubbed the dark smudges under her eyes and nodded jerkily. "Okay, what do you need from me?"
On the other side of the video call, Amanda's eyes took on a slightly glazed over look as she glanced at a different window. "Okay, I've got your transfer documents, but you know, the extras are necessary. Hometown and region?"
"Ecruteak, Western Tohjo." There was a slight inhale that Ayame made herself ignore as the information continued on.
"Hair, skin, date of last physical sets with any notable comments?"
"Pink, olive or dark, and June seventeenth, with freshly healed arm break from tree fall, vision unchanged. Emergency inhaler unneeded," Ayame paused to breathe a little harder than usual just to be sure. She kept her voice as disinterested as she possibly could. "Wrist has been removed from splint, the doctor has declared me healthy enough for travel." Physically, at any rate.
There was a pause like Amanda was containing a snort. Then she continued. "License type, parent and emergency contact information?"
"League excursion permitted by the Kimono Girls Theater, three-year visa with an open extension request at any pokemon center or League sanctioned building." She proceeded to rattle off her mother's contact number, then the rest of them, toying with her white hat in her lap. It looked cute enough, sure, but anything that complimented her hair-
"Why are you so weird?"
Never lasted long.
She looked back at Amanda, who grinned. "Are we done?"
"Done as a tauros steak." Amanda made to close the window. "We'll be notified when the Oceania docks at port. Get your card from the clerk once we're off the phone and head on out. I'll meet you at the Gearen Lab when you get there. Ignore the strangers, keep that knife I know you're totally not smuggling in in your boot and don't look ready to be cowed."
Ayame made a face, cheeks puffing out. "Wasn't supposed to get caught."
"Your mum's a celebrity." Amanda winked. "Anyway, I've got about three more clients to run through the entire speech with since people don't put their paperwork in right. Catch you later. Remind your mum she's got a seven-o-clock dinner with us."
When the screen turned black, Ayame happily pulled the black earbuds free from the computer and hopped from the stool. She didn't even get to stretch before some ten-year-old took her place. For a moment, Ayame blinked dumbly. Then she shook her head. She had no right to complain about some kid jumping into a death trap. She was twelve.
At least she understood the death trap was what it was. She hoped.
With a small grin, she returned her earbud jack to the pocket of her dress and back into its receiver. The world began to murmur instead of be a whisper in her ears, and she sounded out each noise under her breath as she walked to the table and requested politely with her hands. Or what she hoped was polite anyway. At the puzzled face, she cleared her throat and said, "Sorry, I'd like to get my trainer card please."
The woman smiled as fast as possible. "Oh! Sorry. We're not trained in Tohjan Sign on this ship. Only Kalosian and Unovan. The Tohjan course isn't until next season."
Ayame nodded. "'S okay. It's not common knowledge." Which it wasn't. Kanto, holding the Elites and Champions that started the League system in this regional collective (Was it a collective? She had no idea.), was kind of awkward about sending out-of-region resources. By awkward, she meant bad. Kalos was only better by virtue of people being obsessed with the internet and memory-making, the oversharing weirdoes. She rubbed her wrist to avoid looking at the woman again and seeing something like pity.
The woman sighed, blue hair dancing messily out of her face. "No, trust me, we have so many people coming on and off to register and people have no idea. Aevium is not the most health-positive-"
"Please." Ayame smiled like her mother did to reporters. She had seen it a lot over the past year. "No need to do all of that bowing or anything. I've got workarounds." Which she did. And listening to people's activism speeches got old on good days. This was a mediocre day.
The woman giggled. "Right, sorry. Didn't mean to push… hang on." She reached into the printer where the plastic card slid out of its slot. "All right, get this verified when we get to Gearen, and you'll be all set. Also, a general word of advice, don't eat out in East Gearen unless someone else pays." At the raised eyebrow, the woman's grin widened. "Just trust me, you're safer off."
Ayame smiled back and saluted with two fingers. "Got you. Thanks."
She was all too happy to leave that conversation.
She left the application room and ended up face first into dazzling white fabric and layers of pink hair soft as a well-kept litten. Pale arms encircled her before she could choke out a no. Ayame squawked instead. "Mum. Space, space."
"Sorry honey!" Her mother stepped back, smiling her usual too-wide smile for the public, the one that matched her creamy skin. "You just took so long that I was getting worried. What if you missed the banquet?"
Honestly, that would have been the least of her problems. She didn't need to be paraded around as Nancy of Nimbasa's daughter, the daughter of the famous shooting star who had worked with anyone from Sabrina to Diantha to at one point Green Oak on a minor gym leader expo tournament. It was all because of Green Oak that Ayame was here on this ship with her mother if she thought about it.
"Ama just wanted to talk, that's all." Ayame smiled back at her, avoiding the eyes of other passengers who took them in, lingered on Ayame's olive skin and the red, too red color of her eyes. "She said to remind you we have dinner with her tonight."
Her mother whined and mimed driving her foot into the carpeted floor. "All these meetings~ Where's my manager when we need him?"
"You left Curtis in Unova, mum," Ayame pointed out.
She giggled behind a slender, manicured hand. Ayame was suddenly incredibly aware of the rough calluses and nubbed fingernails of her own. "True." She left her arms loosely around her daughter's waist, not letting go just yet. "So, are you all set?"
"Mmhm." Ayame made herself smile back again without shifting away, itching under the feather-light touch. "When we get to Gearen and get all taken care of, it'll be nice and official. I'll go exploring the next day, probably."
Her mother beamed all the brighter, like a light bulb with settings. "Excited, huh?"
"Can't just be your daughter forever. I've got miko advancements to make and the like." At the way her mother's face fell, Ayame made to lift her hands in a consoling gesture. "It's not personal, mum. I just need a little space."
How could she just accept a person she barely knew after all?
Her mother had been around in video messages, in rare gifts and once every other movie visits where she cooed about her daughter getting strong and smart and good. Up until the past year, she had lived with her guardian and his husband and in the Theatre's comfy cushions. That was up until six months ago, where Nancy had just swooped in and arrived, dragging Ayame away just after her teachers had permitted her to get a starter of her own and journey to make a difference, to leave a mark on the world. And then Johto had just been out of the question after that.
Nancy had shown her to a whole host of people, people she had heard of, people she hadn't, pokemon she hadn't thought she'd ever get to meet, book after book of information passed into her hands until Ayame, in a fit of homesick rage, had thrown a guidebook against a hotel wall and cried for the parents she knew.
The next day, mum had passports to Aevium in the works, just like that.
Mom reached and stroked one lock of her hair, smoothing it down. Ayame twitched but let her, ignoring the way her face fell further. "I suppose you're right," the woman said with a sigh. "Still! We've got some time yet. Go explore the ship, I have to go to another meeting. Give the captain my regards, okay? He really has been looking forward to meeting you."
Ayame hesitated at first, but then she nodded. She could do that. She could talk to a couple people, wander around and not stay in the corner. Yeah, that was fine.
"I'll probably take a nap too," she added, mostly to console herself, give her something to look forward to.
Her mother patted her cheek. "You and your sleep. Be good." She released her and skipped away, a pokeball now dancing on her palm. Ayame watched her go, frowning under the brim of the hat she was carrying. Is she okay?
Ayame could never be sure when it came to her mother. Maybe the fame really had gone to her mother's head, like people said. Or maybe she was just a nice person who did things. Ayame knew more nice people than people who did things.
Ayame shook her head and adjusted the volume dial in her pocket. Time to go take a look around.
Now that she had no choice but to look around at it, the ship was actually enormous on the inside. She hadn't looked too much at first. She was too tired from being on another mode of transportation early in the morning and being heckled by stupid paparazzi photographers. But now she could see creamy ceilings and walls, Viridian imported oak making up the rails and shined with Occa Berry glaze, to make them less flammable.
Someone glanced at her and then quickly away as they passed. Ayame's shoulders hunched and she sped up her stride, suddenly finding herself completely uninterested in examining the rest of the ship for at least the rest of this floor.
Meanwhile, Nancy watched Ayame disappear up one of the flights of stairs through the crack in the door of another room, her free hand clenched on the doorway. Then she let out a sigh and closed it, her neon-bright pink hair swinging elegantly about her hat. Everything about her was carefully constructed, built to be the societally appropriate star of the stage and cinema. "All right, she's left." Even her voice was harmless and breathless sounding. She wasn't sure why that would even be necessary. She used Fairy types.
"Wonderful." The other occupant of the small room raised a single dark eyebrow, her gothitelle's hand in hers. "Sit down. You're late."
Nancy pirouetted on her sharp heels, scowling ever so slightly. She strode across the room, white dress flying around her legs in quick shifts. "I'm only worried about her." Mawile's pokeball shuddered in her hand and she placed him in her bag beside another, beside the other.
"You don't have emotions with which to worry with," the woman countered with a singular snort, brushing her black hair out of her face. "Don't attempt the impossible. We have a job to do, don't we?"
Nancy wilted like a tulip, folding into herself and expression dulling into line, into the obedient doll that she knew she was supposed to be. "Yes, but… are you sure this is the right thing? I… I'm starting to wonder."
"You don't need to wonder." The other let out a fond sigh. "You just need to make Ayame happy. Get to West Gearen, start your new life. Get rid of that thing in your bag."
"She wants to train, Crescent." Nancy knew it more than anything, knew it by the stiff way Ayame fled from touch. She wanted to be free, wanted to be alone with herself and able to prove that she was more than the machinations of the Ecruteak theater. She wanted to be strong and her own.
"And that matters?" Crescent regarded her thoughtfully through her bangs, lounging in her chair with her legs raised on the cushion. "It never seemed to matter to you before."
Nancy looked at the ceiling and did not respond.
"So, in Aevium, once you beat the Leaders, you have an Elite Eight to face." Augustus Briney stroked the wiry ends of his white beard as he spoke, his hot cofee completely untouched.
Ayame sipped her tea to hide the gradually creeping fear of facing twenty-seven elite trainers at the very least and the growing twitch in one eye because the Captain did not seem to have an off switch. "Why not four?" Seriously, wasn't the high-level trainer battling meant for places like the Battle Frontier
Augustus smiled at her. "Because four is a cursed number, is it not?"
Ayame shivered and nodded, taking a long sip of tea. The 'four is death' superstition probably wasn't the actual reason, but she could go along with it. Elite Four groups in the past few years had not been having a good time. Scandals and murders and all sorts of things. The entire upheaval in Unova right now was a great example of that, considering Plasma was still trying to go at it. "True." That wasn't even going into the rumor that Champion Lance was plotting the downfall of mankind. And with all the Elite Four accusations of not attacking cult groups, maybe they neeeded eight to get anything done.
The man winked, tugging on his sailor's cap. "Such a superstitious young woman you are."
Ayame made a face. "I lived in Ecruteak, sir." Ecruteak and Mahogany were almost as suspicious as Blackthorn, and they only weren't because they didn't worship a single type.
Augustus almost frowned, but he caught himself just in time. "That is very true. They are a suspicious folk there." He looked out the only round window of his office. "Ah. We are getting close. I should go check in on the lunch proceedings." He walked her out and Ayame yawned. "Going through the throes of puberty are we?" he chuckled. "My son was always tired when he was getting to your age."
Ayame made a face and laughed it off. "No, sir. I just get tired fairly often. I'll go rest until the banquet if that's all right." It was either that or him getting an actual answer on the slim chance he got remotely close to what it was.
"Of course. Just do not miss it. It's always a wonderful time."
Like mom would let me. Ayame bowed quickly and left ahead of him, heading down the stairs and yawning again. I didn't finish my tea. But she wouldn't be punished for it here. So it was rude but pardonable.
Her mother smiled at her over paperwork as Ayame hung up her hat and snuggled under the safe warmth of the comforter. If her mother's hand ran over her hair at that point, she for once didn't react to it.
Instead, she dreamed of a little girl screaming for help as she died and died and died and for once it wasn't her screaming, which was very odd.
She heard the chanting of a language older than people's guts and ancient tablets, calling a name of a ghost long-dead. Or a creature who only existed in fairy tales.
Yet there were records. Pictures, audio files shattered at the seams of the mp4. It, with its thousand arms, existed to them.
With red and green eyes, Arceus stared down at her.
"I hope you realize how much work you are," he said. He sounded so disgruntled and with a prod of a hoof, he shooed her away. "Go on. I'll deal with you later."
Ayame woke up with a violent shudder. Her mother held her tight and in an instant, Ayame lashed out with hands and nearly her knees because she couldn't breathe and seconds passed before she smelled the odd Liechi berry perfume. Ayame opened her eyes and curled away, up into herself where it was safe. Her mother smiled and wiped off the blood from her cheek.
"Just a scratch," she told her daughter, giggling a little. Not the public giggle but the worried one because her mother just couldn't be honest anywhere, anytime. "Don't worry, it will look good on my face. You're the one who must look beautiful, everyone knows me."
Ayame nodded along with her fib, shame curling in her gut. She didn't feel very hungry now. Still, she made herself actually sit up, smoothing the wrinkles from her beautiful white dress-
That might look better with some red on it, red like your damn eyes, you spoiled freak-
And retrieving her hat.
No, she could, she could not be a lady like her mother yet. Her grasp of the language was too weak and she didn't have the manners. But she could look it, and put up the facade a little. She smiled enough and kept her insults to herself. That would have to be enough.
"We need to go take our seats," Mum said gently, rubbing concealer over the razor-thin scratch. Ayame nodded again, picking up her bag from the shelf along with the clefairy doll next to it, ratty with age. She didn't know why, but she needed to do it, absolutely had to. She pulled it over one shoulder and put on her best smile.
"Ready."
Her mother grinned a conspirator's grin. "Let's give them a show."
Ayame tried to smile back, but the dream churned in the contents of her stomach.
Inside the elegant dining hall, Ayame listened to the prattle of the chef and their captain with only vague interest. The room was strangely dark, lit by small light bulbs hanging from the ceiling and a lot of candles on the tables. Coupled with the thick fabric tablecloths, it was really asking for a fire hazard. They must have been buying time for the food to finish. Then, with the chef's dramatic flourish, silver carts flew out from the doors to the side of the stage, placing covered plates at every table. Ayame wanted to groan. Why was this so dramatic?
Her mother laughed. "Enjoy the silly, Aya," she told her. "It's always a hoot."
"Or something," Ayame made to cut into her buneary when the doors in the back swung open themselves. A woman shrieked.
"There's a bomb downstairs!" Everyone stared dumbly at the woman at the door before she grinned. "And I put it there."
Her mother shouted something, something like her name and a command. She saw someone behind her mother, unmoving but for a hand at their fork. But then she didn't hear or see anything else because purple light washed over her and she was gone.
A/N: Well, hello there. I'm here. It took me a while, but as a celebration of the upcoming release of version nine of Pokemon Rejuvenation, here is part one of my run. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please leave a review down below if you can. I love them very much. Also as a small heads-up, the rating might increase at some point.
Challenges: Diversity Writing Anime/Manga M8. modernized!AU, Epic Masterclass (Pokemon Gen) Mix Tapes.